


Bring on the Good Cheer!

by alynwa



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for the Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Deck the halls with boughs of holly!  Fa la la la la la la la laaaaaaaa!”_

Illya could hear his partner’s slightly off – key singing as he walked up to their office door.  When it slid open, it revealed Napoleon Solo standing on a chair attaching something to the ceiling rakishly wearing a red Santa hat complete with a white fluffy ball dangling at the end of it.  “Agent So… _Napoleon,_ may I ask what it is you are doing?”

“Illya!” Napoleon said cheerfully, “Surely, you have seen mistletoe before?”

“Yes, while I was in Europe.  Why are you hanging it up in here?”

The CEA laughed as he completed his task and jumped down.  He clapped the smaller man on the shoulder and replied, “This is the _perfect_ place for it!  I know this is your first Christmas with me as your partner, but trust me on this one, Partner Mine.  There is no better place to receive a holiday kiss than in our office behind a closed door.  The secretaries expect it of me.  They’ll be expecting it from you, too.”

“ _What?”_

“Oh, absolutely.  I have it on good authority that women have been flipping coins to determine who is going to bring you your mail between now and New Year’s.  That means one thing: They’ll be looking for you to kiss them when they stand under this mistletoe.”

The Russian blushed to the roots of his hair.  He stared at his superior standing smiling in front of him in a Santa hat and shirtsleeves still managing to look quite dapper in a get up that would have lesser men looking ridiculous.  “Do you expect this of me?”

Napoleon’s smile faded slightly as his brows furrowed in confusion.  “Are you asking if kissing the secretaries is an order?”  When Illya nodded he said, “Of course not!  This is all in fun and keeping with the spirit of the season.  Hey, you must want to kiss somebody sometime, right?”

Illya shifted from side to side in embarrassment.  “Well, _yes_ , but I am a very private person, Napoleon.  I do not kiss women indiscriminately and beyond that, I am an atheist.  The entire concept is not something that I believe.”

“You don’t have to believe in God to celebrate Christmas, Illya.”  Touching his hat he added, “I don’t think any of the Wise Men were wearing a chapeau quite like this.  This is the time of year to celebrate friendship and family and yes,” Napoleon said as he held up his hand to stop Illya from interrupting, “I read your file and I know you have no known living relatives, but you have me.”

“We are partners, Napoleon.”

“Teamed by the Old Man Himself so obviously, he sees something in us that he thinks will be beneficial to UNCLE and to us.  In the ten months we’ve been partnered, we haven’t had a misstep on a mission due to a failure to communicate.  It’s like I start to think something…”

“And I can finish the thought.  I must admit, I have never experienced anything quite like it before.”

“Face it, Illya, you like me and we are beginning to become friends, really good friends.  And as your senior agent, it’s my job to make sure that you enjoy this holiday season.  Think about the mistletoe; you might decide to utilize it to your advantage.”

Illya checked his watch.  “I have a meeting back in the labs in ten minutes.”  He reached into a drawer and extracted the papers he had come for originally.  “Do not worry about my enjoyment of the holiday season.  I do not intend to be a part of any celebrations.”

Napoleon watched as the blond turned and walked through the open door into the hallway.  As the pneumatic door slid closed, Napoleon sat at his desk and prepared to address Christmas cards.  _We’ll just see about that, Illya._   


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Illya entered UNCLE HQ through the after – hours entrance as it was six – thirty, too early for Agent Del Floria’s Tailor Shop to be open.  He stopped in the Commissary to buy a large cup of coffee and then headed to the office he shared with Napoleon.

At first, he was surprised to find out that the Chief Enforcement Agent of UNCLE North America would deign to share his office.  He smiled ever so quickly at the memory of that conversation.  _“We’re partners now, Illya.  Why wouldn’t I want you in an office with me?”_ Napoleon had said.  Compared to UNCLE Europe, things seemed a lot less formal in New York.  The CEA there had a partner, but they didn’t share office space.  As near as he could tell, their relationship, though cordial, was not one of friendship.  _Napoleon insists on treating me as an equal; very rarely has he pulled rank on me and he usually only does it when he thinks I’m taking too large of a risk.  Everytime I have tried to treat him as my superior, he has called me on it.  I’ve never worked with anyone quite like him._

The door slid open with a quiet _whoosh_ and Illya saw that his desk and Napoleon’s both had poinsettia plants atop them.  In front of each pot sat a small, gift wrapped box with a red bow and a card attached.  Placing his coffee down, he picked up the box from his desk as he sat.  When he opened the card it read, “Ho, ho, ho!  I know you have been feeling a little homesick for Russia lately.  Here’s a little reminder of home to stick into your stocking tonight.  Sincerely, Santa.”

The blond snorted at the corniness of the note.  _Napoleon, I already told you I do not buy into this nonsense!_ He put the box down and proceeded to read through his notes from his lab work the day before.  He was attempting to develop a recording device that could be hidden inside a cufflink or a broach.  The one currently in use was too large to hide on one’s person.

After perusing his papers for about an hour, he glanced up at the box.  It seemed to be beckoning to him; the more he tried to ignore it, the more he couldn’t until curiosity got the better of him and he grabbed it.  Lifting off the lid, he saw a ten ruble coin with a metal circle around it attached to a chain.  Raising it to take a better look he thought, _This is nice; a little piece of home._

The door opened and Napoleon entered.  “Morning!  Wow, poinsettias!  Nice touch.  Who did this, Illya?”

“Do not play coy with me, Napoleon.  I know you must have done this last night.”

The brunet shook his head as he removed his coat.  “Not me.  We left together, remember?  It was almost nine.  You think I would circle back to put plants in here?  My luck, the Old Man would see me and send me on a courier’s run.  No, I didn’t do this.”  He plopped down and picked up the gift box on his desk.  “I certainly wouldn’t buy myself a present.”  He opened his card.  Frowning he read, “Napoleon, you are hanging onto your place on my ‘Good’ list by a thread.  Here’s something to help keep you there.  Remember Aunt Amy.  Santa.”  Inside his box were two orchestra tickets for that night’s performance of the Broadway play “The Odd Couple.”

“What the…?  How did…?”  Napoleon was completely flummoxed.  “Illya, I had promised my aunt I would take her to see this show and after that last mission, I completely forgot about it.  Only she and I knew of my intent!  This is strange.”

Illya sat back and stared.  “So, you really did not do any of this?”  At Napoleon’s headshake, Illya muttered, “Strange, indeed.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Napoleon and Illya met up in front of Del Floria’s the next morning at nine o’clock as they had a meeting with Mr. Waverly at ten.  “Morning, Partner Mine!  How are you this fine day?”

Scowling, Illya snarled in a dangerously low voice, “I do not appreciate you sneaking into my apartment.  I might have shot you.” 

The look on his face was so angry that Glenna just handed him his badge without a word and pinned Napoleon’s on quickly and tried to melt into the background.  The last thing she heard as the two men passed her to enter HQ was Napoleon saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  When the eighteen inch thick door swung closed, she grabbed her phone and called her friend Donna in Section IV to tell her the CEA and his new partner were fighting.  Forty – five minutes later, every female support staff knew they were at each other’s throats and their partnership was doomed.

Both men had somehow silently agreed that they would continue their conversation in private.  When the door to their office opened, they were both stunned to see the two poinsettia plants that were there the day before were now joined by several more plus the little sprig of mistletoe Napoleon had hung the other day had been replaced by a large bunch of the kiss – inspiring green. 

“First last night and now this,” Illya fumed, “Please stop!”

Napoleon could feel his ears starting to heat with anger.  “Exactly what is it you’re accusing me of doing last night?”

The Russian huffed, “I heard someone in my living room and by the time I got there, there was no one in sight.  There was only the stocking you had hung on my doorway leading into my kitchen.  You even placed the ruble necklace inside it!”

“That wasn’t me.  I took Aunt Amy to the theater last night, remember?  We went for a late supper and I actually stayed there last night.  I keep some things there so I haven’t been home since yesterday morning.  And this wasn’t my doing, either.”

“Did you find out who gave you the tickets?”

“No, but I’m thinking: Probably the same person who put those boxes on our desk.  Did you notice them when we came in?  I didn’t and that doesn’t seem possible.”

Illya’s gaze followed Napoleon’s.  There were identical boxes approximately three inches wide and tall sitting in the middle of their desk blotters.  “I would swear they were not there when we arrived.”  He walked over and picked up the one on his desk.  There was a note attached which he read aloud.  “If you don’t stop arguing with Napoleon, I’m going to put a lump of coal in your stocking!  Here’s something sweet you’ve been craving.  Santa.”  He opened the box to find fresh _lymonnyk._ He gasped, “I was thinking that I wanted this with my coffee!  It’s Russian lemon pie!  Freshly made!”

Napoleon moved to his desk and quickly picked up his gift.  He read his card to Illya.  “This is for being a good nephew and friend.  Santa.”  When he opened his box, it contained two small frames, one containing a picture of him and Aunt Amy at dinner and the other a picture of Illya and him sharing coffee and a laugh in the Commissary.  He did a double take.  “This picture with Amy was taken last night!  And this one of the two of us has to be from last week.  There was no one taking pictures that I saw.”

Illya took a bite of his treat and smiled.  “I am starting to think there is something to this Santa business.”

“ _You_ believe in Santa now?  I guess there is such a thing as a Christmas miracle.”

“I would not go that far.  I think there is someone in this organization who is attempting to be…what is it called?  A Secret Santa?  Perhaps someone thinks they will get the ‘heathen Communist’ into the Christmas spirit.”

“This doesn’t feel mean – spirited.  I mean, we’ve each gotten something nice.  If you’re right, then someone has made us his or her holiday project which I wouldn’t mind, but you said someone entered your home obviously without tripping your alarms and got out before you saw him or her in a matter of seconds.  I need to find out who this is; this is a security breach, minimally and at worse, someone could get killed entering a Section II’s home unauthorized.”

Illya closed the lid of his gift.  “I will get coffee to go with this.  It seems we have a bit of a mystery.”

Napoleon picked up his phone.  “I have an idea how to start solving it,” he said as he dialed an extension.  “Hello, Joseph.  I need to look at some security tapes.”    


	4. Chapter 4

Janice Jones walked quickly to Lisa Roger's office. She had no idea why Miss Rogers wanted to see her, but she had a sinking feeling that it had to do with the length of time it had taken her to type up all the requisitions that had come in from Sections I, V and V!. _I thought that was all cleared up when I explained that I was home sick for two days. Miss Rogers chastised me for having the work in my locked desk. I mean, I hadn't_ planned _on being out sick. I hope…_

Her train of thought was stopped in its tracks as the pneumatic door to Miss Rogers' office opened and she saw not only her, but Napoleon Solo and his partner, Illya Kuryakin. All three were staring at her and she suddenly felt very small and very intimidated. "Um, you wanted to see me, Miss Rogers?"

"Yes. Have a seat." Lisa waited until she was settled into a chair and then asked, "Miss Jones, are you aware that certain areas of UNCLE HQ are under twenty – four hour camera surveillance?"

"What? No, I wasn't aware of that, Miss Rogers." _Oh no, I know what this is about!_

"Miss Jones, Mr. Solo told me that he looked at surveillance footage that shows you going into his and Mr. Kuryakin's office with poinsettia plants. Did you place plants in their office?"

Janice could feel the beginning of a blush warm her cheeks. "Yes, I did, but it was a nice thing to do for the holiday season! I thought it would brighten your day. What's wrong with that?"

Illya spoke. "There is nothing wrong with that, but there is quite a bit wrong with breaking into a Section II's home. I could have shot you to death. I want to hear how you bypassed my alarms and exited before I entered my living room. I also want to know how you knew what to buy for Napoleon and me. Did you place a listening device in our office?"

" _What?"_ She spun around to stare at the Russian. "I've _never_ been in your home! I didn't buy either one of you presents! I never put a listening device or _any_ device in your office. The only thing I've done is sneak two poinsettias into your office. Honest!" She looked to Lisa Rogers. "I'm not lying, Miss Rogers. I'll, I'll even take a lie detector test!"

Lisa glanced over at the two men and Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, Miss Jones, I don't think a lie detector is needed here. Lisa, I think Illya and I are done here." The agents stood to leave. "Miss Jones, Janice, I appreciate what you did, but I think in the future, it's best not to try to surprise us."

As they left, the last thing they heard was Lisa saying, "Miss Jones, we need to talk about how to behave toward Section IIs."

As they walked to their office Illya asked, "You believe her?"

"I only watched the first film. She didn't know that. When I saw Janice walking into our office with the plants, I figured I had the person responsible for everything. If she had done all of it, she would have copped to it. I'm going to watch the rest of them and hopefully see who else has been playing Santa."


	5. Chapter 5

The two men had gone their separate ways after their meeting with Lisa Rogers and Janice Jones; Illya to the labs and Napoleon to their office to peruse the rest of the surveillance films. Before they had done so, Illya had accepted Napoleon's invitation to dinner. When Napoleon had finished all his tasks for the day, he called the Russian and declared that since it was after eight, it was past time to leave.

"I'll meet you at the Reception desk," Illya replied, "I hope you have something good for dinner as I am very hungry."

Napoleon chuckled, "I'm learning that you're _always_ hungry! I have steaks defrosted and a couple of potatoes to bake and I'll throw together a salad. We'll be eating late, but we'll be eating well."

They handed in their badges and stepped outside where a Section III agent sat in a sedan ready to drive them home. They rode in companionable silence watching the sights unique to New York City during the Christmas season: Salvation Army Santas ringing bells, skaters at Rockefeller Plaza, store windows completely decked out in holiday themes and everywhere, people loaded down with shopping bags and packages.

They said goodnight to the driver and entered Napoleon's building. When his private elevator door shut Illya asked, "Did you watch the rest of the surveillance footage?"

Nodding, Napoleon answered, "Yes, for all the good it did. No one other than Miss Jones entered our office after hours and she only did it the one time I had already seen. I don't know what's going on. We can brainstorm about it while we eat."

The door slid open on the penthouse floor and when they exited Illya remarked, "I must be hungrier than I thought; I swear I smell dinner cooking in your apartment."

Napoleon pulled his gun. "Then I must be as starved as you because I smell it, too."

"Could it be your Aunt Amy?" Illya inquired as he too pulled his Walther from his shoulder holster.

The senior agent shook his head. "She doesn't have a key and even if she did, she would never just drop in like this; someone is in my home." He inspected his locks which did not appear tampered with, but when he tried the knob, it was unlocked.

Hyper – vigilant now, they flicked the safeties off their weapons and walked stealthily into the apartment. Mouth – watering smells were emerging from the kitchen which they ignored as they moved toward the living room where they could tell by the dancing shadows that there was a fire in the fireplace.

Suddenly, a voice came from the living room. "Napoleon, Illya, it's all right. I'm not armed!"

Napoleon and Illya crouched and stepped into the room, guns aimed in the direction of the voice. They straightened up in shock to see a rather large white – bearded man dressed in a red suit trimmed in white, a wide black leather belt with matching black boots and a red and white hat sitting in Napoleon's recliner.

Illya took a step closer. "Who are you?" he demanded, "And how did you get past the alarms on the door?"

"Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! I am exactly who you think I am and I didn't need to use the door. I wanted to talk to you boys face to face. It seems I created a little confusion for you and that was not my intent."

Illya was quickly losing patience. "You are not Santa Claus! I am Russian! Why would you not appear to me as Ded Moroz? Napoleon, I will get our answers," he shouted as he reached to snatch the man from the chair. In a blink of an eye, he disappeared.

"The reason I'm Santa Claus," the voice continued conversationally from the couch which caused both men to whip around to see him, "is because this is the United States. If we were in Russia, I would have appeared to you as Ded Moroz. When in Rome…"

"Okay," Napoleon finally said. "I'll buy into this madness for a minute. Santa, why are you here? And why have you apparently cooked us dinner? And, shouldn't I turn off the oven before it burns?"

"Your last mission took a lot out of both of you. I have a special list for people who not only are good, but also _do_ good. You are both on that list. Without that list, a lot of people, like police and soldiers, would never get presents and that wouldn't be fair. I'm the one who gave you the presents you've received, so far, and I'm the one who decorated your office. I thought the two plants Janice gave you needed company."

"What I want you two young men to do this holiday season is: Enjoy it. Napoleon, I know you intend to include this young man here in your Christmas celebration with your aunt and that is admirable. Illya, this man is working very hard to become your friend. Let him be your friend. He's right, Mr. Waverly saw something in the two of you that he thought meshed well."

The Russian's eyes bulged in shock. "How, how do you know he said that to me?"

Santa stood and laughed until his belly was jiggling like jelly. "I know when you're awake! Now, gentlemen, I've been here long enough. This is my busy season and I have to get back to work. Accept the gifts you'll receive this Christmas and be good to each other." He began to fade away before their eyes. When he was almost gone, he solidified again long enough to say, "Whenever you take your dinner out of the oven, it will be perfectly cooked." And then he was gone.

They stared at the spot where Santa had stood and then, stared at each other. Slowly holstering their guns, Illya said, "What are we supposed to do, now?"

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. "Eat dinner, I guess. I'm starving."

As Santa had promised, the steaks were perfectly cooked to a medium rare and everything else was delicious. They both noticed that all the food stayed at an optimum temperature and when they wanted more of something, it was there.

Illya looked at the man who was his partner and who was becoming his friend. "Napoleon, are you going to tell anyone about this?"

"No, _Tovarisch,_ I think we should keep this between us."

The Russian looked at him. "You have never called me that before."

"We are comrades, Illya." He raised his glass of merlot and toasted. "To friends, to Christmas and to Santa."

Illya clinked his glass against Napoleon's. " _Nostrovia!"_


End file.
